This is only a snapshot in the sense that I wrote it just now.
It is only my poet self that has these affairs;
my quotidian self is squeaky clean (for now, anyway;-).
Oh go back to your wife!
Don't look at me that way!
I would do anything but hurt you
you with the sea in your eyes
and the storm in your hands
and the city lights in your mouth
I would have you a thousand times just to give you pleasure
but not hurt you.
Go back to your wife!
She is still beautiful
she is much smarter than me
she dances like a sonnet
and dresses like a haiku
and I can see that you love her
and hurting her would hurt you.
Go back to her!
Leave me to my desperation,
masturbation,
fantasies of your skin and voice and eyes
jeans peeled off your slim hips,
t-shirt off your heart
my tongue on your nipple and my
muscle on your cock,
your hands in my hair
and your voice incoherent
and cigarettes and
searching the Web from your lap,
naked
and drinks and
late-night talk about everything
me Yoko, you John...
too much pain.
Go back to your wife.
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Janet Jackson
<[log in to unmask]>
www.arach.net.au/~huxtable/janet
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